Come Clean

As I write this, the United States is in economic turmoil of great severity (though God willing it's pulled out of it in the few days it took for this to be published). A deal was made a few days ago to lower the budget deficit and raise the debt ceiling. Much of the deal revolved around cuts to the budget, though consideration was given to the other possibility. Now, I know what I call that other possibility, but I wondered if I were just plain crazy, because throughout the debate no one uttered the word taxes.

Instead what was said over and over by everyone as the counterbalance to budget cuts was increasing revenue, or just 'revenue'. I know what that means to me. It's a general term for all means of income to the nation. Were these people suggesting that we close the budget gap with ATF auctions or a renewed campaign to sell stamps? That would fall under the category of 'revenue', as would selling lemonade and holding bikini carwashes. Alas, I gather they meant no such thing.

Do Stop Believin'

I often know to write about something because I find myself fixating on some subject, angrily repeating words to myself over and over. I know I have to write about it partly, because it's best to choose subjects about which you care deeply and know well, but also because I have to break the cycle of thought that permits nothing else to happen in my mind except for that thing. This, I gather, is catharsis, and an excellent example of such writing is forthcoming.

If I asked you to characterize the trust level of people today, I would expect you to say that people are not trusting at all. They lock doors, decline hitchhikers and are generally cynical about people's motives for doing good, you will likely enough say. I have a different opinion. People may do those things, but I contend that they are maybe more credulous than ever. Certainly that is true of the press, and particularly so the sports media (if such a thing exists).

The Truth, The Partial Truth, And Nothing But The Nice Part Of The Truth

I've offered numerous accounts of my nighttime exploits here, and it has made me think about the way truth is shaped and framed when told by one person to another. The re-telling is never completely faithful, and there are any number of reasons why one would want to diverge from total fidelity to real events, or feel compelled to. They mostly have to do with regard for the manner in which certain people will react (often, law enforcement included).

It didn't used to be so complicated to tell stories about myself and my friends. For one thing, there were fewer friends (none of whom had matured enough to have a dark side) and often there were no friends at all. When there were friends, our stories were of a very harmless nature, and there was nothing one would think to omit out of delicacy- only out of disinterest. Once I got to college age, there started to be certain things I would tell ruefully. Later the rueful things started to loom larger, and the gladly-shared details were replaced by ones I preferred to keep to myself except in the event of being subpoenaed by a grand jury. That hasn't happened yet.